The newcomers' presence made a murderous gleam kindle in the gorgon princess Stylla's icy serpent eyes. Her voice was a winter knife:
"Humans… anyone who trespasses into these waters dies."
Involuntarily, the inferno in her mind roared back to life: the capital choking on smoke, flames devouring everything; raiders grinning with feral cruelty as they stripped her people of all they were.
The more she remembered, the hotter the hatred burned like a volcano ready to burst.
She lifted her gaze to the sky and murmured:
"The middle-aged man has the upper hand. When they finish and both are bloodied, I'll take their lives."
Killing intent so cold it frosted the air poured off her. The Sea King beneath her broke into a clammy sweat, trembling as it slid its head under the water to hide.
She didn't rush in. The clash above Ares versus Garp was a storm of strength that spoke for itself. Each collision of fists sent out shockwaves that heaved the ocean.
She found herself… impressed.
So this is how men fight?
Far off, at the Marine warship riding the island's edge, Zephyr's eyes never left the duel overhead. He failed to notice the distant silhouette of Stylla gliding in.
The stoic lines of his face softened; the corner of his mouth ticked up.
"Garp's iron fists, over and over, are landing. Little by little, even Ares' body is feeling it," he judged. "Even Rocks wouldn't be arrogant enough to trade punches with Garp like this."
"That hardheaded brat Ares won't use his Devil Fruit yet. If he waits for desperation, it'll be too late."
"When he's on the brink, that's when I move. End the Rocks Pirates' 'Blood-Hand' and clip Rocks' wings."
Garp pressing the advantage, victory edging closer Zephyr's mood lightened.
High above the sea.
Ares' titan's frame, all bulging corded muscle, was mapped with wounds. Even with his freakish recovery and ridiculous toughness, after eating so many of Garp's shots, bruises pooled purple and black across his torso.
Brutal exchanges bled stamina. Even his regeneration slowed clear patches of stagnating blood turned a fresh hit into a fresh ache.
"Kid, let's see how long you last under these iron fists!" Garp barked, square jaw set, eyes ferocious. Blood trickled from his brow Ares had rung his bell too. He couldn't match Ares' raw physique.
But he didn't need to. He stood among the sea's mightiest on the back of something else entirely: Armament Haki honed to a terrifying edge.
He drove a punch that ripped the air; the gale slapped Ares' cuts cold.
"Blood-Red Armament Red Dragon Smash!"
Ares roared from deep in the chest. Steel-cast muscles detonated with force and met Garp's fist head-on.
Boom
The thunder of impact didn't slow either man. They threw the next strike in the same breath.
Wham
Boom
Ares' eyes were blood-webbed, his grin feral. He looked like some ancient beast king driven berserk.
"Garp come again!"
"My thoughts exactly!!" Veins cording his neck, Garp let his Armament blaze and slammed a punch loaded to the limit.
"Fist Bone Meteor Crash!"
Whud
The blow landed clean, blasting Ares away. He spat blood; crimson hail pattered into the raging sea and bled it a shade darker.
But Ares killed his tumble midair, body snapping back around. The screaming wind over his skin made him briefly forget the fire in his wounds.
In the dying sun he was lacquered in a gold-red sheen, a living statue of fury.
"Blood-Red Armament Red Dragon's Roar!!"
Even now even now he refused to use his Mythical Zoan.
His pillar-thick arms swelled, veins like coiled dragons writhing beneath the crimson sheen. The air rippled in rings around his fists.
Garp threw his head back and laughed. "Hah-hah-hah!"
"Ares, you're the opponent I respect most in my life!!"
No one no one else dared trade pure fists with the "Iron Fist." And Ares had a Devil Fruit…and cast it aside.
The man set Garp's blood alight with a hero's joy. Respect demanded an answer in kind.
"Seafloor Drop!"
Armament surged and then twisted, collapsing into a dense, spherical core around his knuckles. A technique he'd showed to no one. A way of using Haki no one had seen.
KRAKOOM
When their fists met, a blinding sun erupted and wrapped them both in a giant globe of light. The backlash gouged a perfect circular pit in the sea, as if the ocean itself had been punched hollow.
The water vanished for an instant.
Terrifying.
"Who took that one?" Zephyr's voice was tight. He didn't blink.
Seconds ticked. Then his pupils caught a figure streaking down like a falling star.
Ares tumbling, trailing a comet-tail of blood. Zephyr couldn't help the bark of savage approval. "Garp well done!"
Ares plummeted toward the waves until a pad of fire billowed beneath him and bore him up.
"Kh kh " He doubled over coughing; dark blood spattered the sea.
Then he tilted his head, grinning through the red. "That punch… was something."
"Even my pride-steel body couldn't eat it clean. That hurt."
In those bright, beast-clear eyes flickered a rare astonishment. Iron Fist, indeed. One of the Marines' strongest had just proved why.
"Ares! Use your Fruit come at me with everything!" Garp called, surprise fading into admiration. He'd hammered at that trick for years; the power was enough to erase a town. He'd thought it would end it.
He'd underestimated the armor Ares called flesh.
Garp flexed his knuckles until they popped, excitement blazing. "Use your Devil Fruit. Use everything and "
" fight me to our hearts' content!"
He'd won the exchange of fists, but there was no gloating in him only the hunger to meet Ares at full power.
"Hey."
There was no trace of defeat on Ares' chiseled face only a deeper, darker thrill. "I never said… I'd lost."
"I told myself more than a year ago next time I met you, Garp…"
"I'd beat you."
His wounds were knitting fast not fully, but enough. The wreckage of that last hit had only stoked his fire higher.
He was… happy. "As I thought my body's still not there yet. I'm far from the realm of the Supreme Grade Blades."
Knowing that was good. It marked the road. He'd keep hammering forward, step by step, until his body out-hardened any Supreme Grade Meitō.
Garp's eyes flickered. "Stubborn devil… He still won't use his Fruit?"
By now Ares had clearly fallen behind in the slugfest. Keep this up and there was only one end.
Yet he wouldn't switch. He had to settle it with fists.
Respect swelled in Garp's chest despite himself. He raised his voice:
"Then these iron fists will end the legend of the sea monster 'Blood-Hand Ares'!"
He challenged him to continue.
"Lose?"
Ares bared his teeth and threw his head back laughing. "Once is plenty."
"The same enemy don't expect me to lose twice!!"
"This time, I beat you with my fists!"
The flame cloud surged, lofting him back up to face Garp once more.
On the warship, Zephyr almost smiled. "Still as hard-headed as ever. He won't press his strengths he'll fight Garp's fight."
"Brave. But this isn't a friendly spar. It's life and death."
"Recklessness gets paid in blood."
If Ares tapped his Fruit now, Zephyr might have worried about a breakout. But Ares spurned it.
And that filled Zephyr with ironclad confidence that today… they could erase Ares.
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